Fairy Tales and Other Stories
by molly2012
Summary: Gibbs, Ziva, and the beginning of their relationship. Dealing with Rule 12, the 'L' word and telling the team. Sequel to my previous 'Homeland' fics but can be read on its own too. Read and enjoy, reviews always welcome!
1. Of Dragons and Monsters

_I have no idea what came over me with this one. Blame holiday-season hysteria...It'll probably be a one-shot, but I've left it open in case of more madness with the muse. It's a sequel to my 'Homeland' fics, but can be read on its own too. Gibbs / Ziva / Zibbs, and explaining away the desecration of Rule 12 - trying to, at least. As always, reviews welcome! (But please be nice, I'm working 14 hour days in between now and Santa!)._

**I do not own any of the characters, books or poems mentioned here. Wish I did, but just borrowing them for a while.**

"Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."― G.K. Chesterton

_He loved to watch her read. _

Gibbs ran the sander over a small section of the wooden boat, taking his time, following the grain. He liked this part of the work. It took patience, and calm, a slow but sure touch. It was the perfect antidote to his usual working day. As he ran his fingers over the light-colored wood, so smooth now it almost felt varnished, his eyes wandered to the woman curled up in the corner of his basement. Deciding that he could take a break, he placed the sander down quietly on the workbench and poured himself a finder-width of bourbon into an empty nail jar. He leaned against the bench and studied her. She sat on an over-sized cushion, her legs tucked under her, book open in one hand and a mug of herb tea in the other. Her dark brown hair, curly and soft from her earlier shower, fell over her shoulders and across her face, and her brow was furrowed in concentration as she read. He smiled to himself, his pleasure mixed with a sense of wonder that she was here at all.

It had only been two weeks since their trip to Israel, and the night they had spent together there had changed the basis of their relationship completely. He would never forget what she had shared with him. They had not talked about it since their return, but every night after work she had been here, sat in his basement reading while he worked on the boat. He had offered to bring her a comfortable chair down, but she refused, saying she liked the cushion. She did not always stay over, and when she did, she did not always sleep in his bed. When he asked her about it, she replied that it was best not to rush things. Her eyes had asked him silently to understand. She wanted him close, but also needed space to get used to him. He did understand. Ironically, a relationship in Israel was much easier than a relationship in DC. Here, he was not just her friend and lover but also her boss. They were getting to know each other on a whole new level. And, he admitted to himself, he was enjoying it.

'What's the book?'

Ziva looked up, startled. She had almost forgotten that he was there. Her frown of concentration relaxed when she saw him watching her, and she lowered her book to return his smile.

'Pablo Neruda'.

_She reads poetry? _

She laughed at his surprised expression.

'Yes, Jethro. I read poetry. Specifically, at this point, _I Like It When You're Quiet'. _

'That a hint?'

'No, a love poem'.

_Love poetry?_

She flicked through the pages. 'My other favourite is _The Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunk'._

'You gonna read me some of these poems?'

She smiled again. 'I might. Someday'.

_So there's going to be a someday. A future. With love poetry. A happy ever after?_ He took a swallow of bourbon.

'So what else do you like to read?'

She shrugged. 'Anything. Everything. Well, not quite everything. Tony lent me the Twilight saga….'. She smirked. 'I read chapter one. I have just finished Susan Glaspell. _Fidelity. _Hence the Neruda, I wanted a change'.

'You ever read fairy tales?'

She laughed again. 'I may be younger than you, Jethro, but I am still a bit old for fairy stories'.

He shook his head, smiling, and picked up the sander again.

'Never too old, Ziva'.

This time it was her turn to watch as he worked. She had been here so many times before, but the past two weeks had been different. _For obvious reasons, _she thought wryly. She was not here as a friend or colleague, but as…..what? Girlfriend? Lover? She found herself idly wondering how many other women had sat in the corner, watching him chisel and saw and sand. _Diane. Hollis. Jenny. Shannon…._

'Do you believe in happy endings, Jethro?'

He looked over at her, briefly surprised by her question, before turning back to the boat.

'Why do you ask?'

She wrapped her hands around her mug, swirling the dregs of tea around the bottom.

'You talked about fairy stories. They usually have one'.

'You've never read Brothers Grimm'.

She smiled in acknowledgement, and put down her mug, stretching out her legs and leaning against the wall.

'I suppose the monsters are real enough. Happy endings might be too much to ask for'.

He sighed and put down the sander. Picking up his bourbon, he walked over to her cushion. She shifted over to make room for him and he sat down next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

'Talk'.

She reached over for the nail jar and took a mouthful of the fiery liquid, feeling it burn her throat and stomach. She grimaced, and handed him back the jar.

'It might take me a while to get used to that stuff'.

'Don't need to get used to it. I'll get you in something different'.

She was silent, leaning back against his arm and staring at the boat. He tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

'Talk to me'.

Ziva turned to look at him, opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it and turned away again, shaking her head. He smiled, and bent his head to kiss her neck.

'Maybe this would help'.

His lips lightly traced the line from her neck up to her jawbone and her cheek, so lightly it was ticklish. She bent away, laughing, but he followed, reaching round to tickle the spot on her ribs that he had discovered was particularly sensitive. Shrieking with laughter, she fell backwards onto the floor, pulling him with her into a deep kiss.

When they finally broke apart, he sat up and looked down at her.

'So?'

She sighed.

'Happy endings, Jethro. Dragons. Monsters. Wicked witches. Rules'.

He took another swallow of bourbon. He thought he knew where this was going.

'Rule 12'.

She hesitated, then nodded.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall.

'I do not want you to regret what we have done…what we are doing. I know you said that you wanted us to be together, but…..'

'It still bothers you'.

He looked down at her for a long moment.

'Dragons and monsters and wicked witches….they're there to be beaten, Ziva. Make the good guys look good'.

'And the rules?'

He gave a half smile. 'Well, maybe they're there to be broken occasionally'.

She raised her eyebrows.

He sighed again. He wasn't much good at talking, and even worse at explaining his feelings.

'The rules….well, they were Shannon. She used to say everyone needs a code they could live by'. He paused again, reaching for the jar. 'But she meant a code. Not a diktat'. Another swallow.

'I made my own rules. Rule 12…that was Jenny'. Another pause, another swallow.

'Paris?' Ziva's voice was quiet.

'She told you?'

Ziva nodded. 'In Cairo. We talked a lot. I have noticed…being in danger has that effect'.

He nodded. 'Didn't work out. So….Rule 12'.

He looked down at Ziva, still half-lying on the floor. She had got under his skin in a way that no one had since Shannon. He loved her strength, her courage, her vulnerability. _Who's the good guy?_

'But you're not Jenny'.

'Glad you noticed', Ziva responded drily.

Gibbs gave a half-smile, and shrugged. 'Wrong place, wrong time'.

'And us?' Ziva spoke in barely more than a whisper.

'Right place. Right time. Right person. Rule 5'.

She thought quickly, but nothing came to her. _What the hell is Rule 5?_

Gibbs' smile broadened as he saw her confusion. 'You don't waste good', he supplied. His expression suddenly became serious, and he reached out to stroke her cheek. 'You're too good, Ziva'.

He bent down to kiss her again.

'But if you're still worried, there's always Rule 51'.

She pushed him away slightly, confused, and he grinned at the expression on her face.

'I added one. Not one that I want broadcasting'.

She raised her eyebrows again.

'Sometimes you're wrong'.


	2. The Language of Love

_So, the 14-hour days are over, but the madness continues! Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed and, again, wanted more. Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! _

_Definitions in this chapter are taken from the Collins English dictionary. _

"Love will find its way through all languages on its own."

― Rumi

Ziva lowered her book, and took a sip of red wine, her eyes wandering until they found the man at the other end of the room. The evening had followed the same pattern as so many evenings over the previous four weeks. Dinner, often a take out, then the basement; her reading, him working on the boat. And yet so much had changed. This relationship felt new to her, different from any she had had before. She had never realized that it was possible to feel so excited and so comfortable at the same time. When she thought of him, her skin tingled with a warm shiver and her heart beat a little faster. The fact that the relationship was a secret only heightened the excitement. Yet she was already secure enough to know that she could trust him and be honest with him. _Is this what being in love feels like? _Neither of them talked much during these evenings in the basement but, she reflected, it was amazing how much you could learn from watching someone. _And he is amazing to watch. _She knew every angle of his face, the different ways his muscles moved when he was sanding or chiseling, the way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating and the way his mouth curved slightly when he looked at her. She found herself wanting to stay longer and longer, and was increasingly reluctant to go back to her apartment. _Even though more reading might get done if I did. _

This evening, however, he was not working on the boat. Lengths of wood were lined up on the workbench, darker wood than the boat, distressed oak with a smooth grain. Gibbs seemed to be taking his time measuring and marking, but she could see no plans of any sort. He was concentrating, a slight frown on his face as he took the pencil from between his teeth to make another mark against his tape measure. Finally she could contain her curiosity no longer.

'What are you doing, Jethro?'

He looked over at her, still holding the pencil and tape, and inclined his head slightly. _Come and see for yourself. _As she moved to stand beside him, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and nuzzled his face against her hair.

'Love you calling me that'. He whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. She laughed and pulled away from him.

'I am curious'_. _

He picked up one of the lengths of wood and studied it, weighing it in his hands.

'A bookcase'.

She looked at him in surprise. 'A bookcase?'

He nodded. 'Umm-hmm. Figured since you do so much reading, you should have somewhere here to keep your books.'

_Keeping books here. Leaving things here. That means staying here. _She chose her words carefully.

'You, uh… do not mind if I leave things here?'

He shook his head. 'Want you to, Ziva. But no pressure.' He looked at her and smiled. 'Start with the books, work up to the toothbrush'.

She laughed. 'Actually, it might be easier the other way round'. Her face became serious. 'But I do not want to pressure you, either. I have been leaving to give us both some space. To, uh…give you time to change your mind. If you want to'.

Gibbs put down the tape measure and turned to her, cupping her face in his hands. 'And why would I want to do that?' She shrugged, suddenly nervous and full of doubt.

'I am not the easiest person to live with, Jethro. Especially now.'

Despite himself, he had to laugh. 'And you think I am?' He pulled her close, tangling his hands in her hair. 'Really. No pressure. Just be honest with me'. Ziva shook her head, relaxing into his arms.

'I want to. I just did not want to assume anything'. _He wanted me to stay. I wanted to stay. We must be really bad at talking. _

Gibbs released her and picked up his pencil again. 'So what's your biggest book?' He smiled again at the look of confusion on Ziva's face. 'How deep should I make the shelves?'

She thought for a moment. 'A dictionary, I think. About this….' She held up her hands. 'By this…and about so deep'.

'A dictionary?'

'What is wrong with a dictionary?'

Gibbs smirked. 'Nothing. You need one though? Your English is better than DiNozzo's'.

'Everyone should have a dictionary. And my English is still worse than my French'. Ziva reached past him to pick up her wine, watching him work again as she sipped. It was a while before she spoke.

'I will not be able to come over tomorrow, Jethro. I promised Abby I would go with her to see her friend's band play. She has been asking me for ages and I could not say no again'.

Gibbs looked at her. 'You don't have to tell me where you're going, Ziva. Just stop by after, if you want'.

'I know'. She sipped again._ I want to._

* * *

Gibbs paused at the top of the basement stairs. Suddenly his refuge seemed cold and empty without her. He had not realized how used to her presence he had become – and how much he missed her when she was not there. He had also, deep down, been worried about asking her to stay, and the relief he felt when she told him she wanted to took him by surprise. _Maybe this is what love feels like. _It had been so long since Shannon that he could not remember. He shook his head, and headed down, switching on the light and putting his mobile in its usual place, out of the way on the higher shelf. He wanted to try and get the bookcase finished while she was out, to surprise her later on. As he poured himself a generous measure of bourbon, he noticed something sat on the other end of the bench. He smiled to himself as he saw what it was. _The dictionary. She wasn't lying when she said it was big. _There was a handwritten note on top, and he suddenly felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. In his experience, handwritten notes from women left in his basement were never good. He picked it up, and his heart beat a little faster, but not for the reason he was expecting.

_**Truthful **_adj. _ – telling the truth; honest. _

_What I want to be with you. _

_**Love**_vb_—to have great affection for a person or thing – to have passionate desire for someone – an intense emotion of affection towards a person or thing – a deep feeling of sexual attraction. __**In love**__ – feeling a strong emotional and sexual attraction._

_What I feel for you. Truthfully. _

_I guess the dictionary can be useful when two people are as bad at talking as we are. _

_See you later?_

Gibbs smiled to himself. Suddenly the basement didn't seem so empty.

Ziva let herself in quietly, and closed the front door behind her. The house was dark and still, but she could see a chink of light still coming from the basement. As she descended the stairs, she realized that it was empty; Gibbs must have already gone to bed. _Unusual. _She realized there were butterflies in her tummy, wondering about his reaction to the note she had left earlier. _Maybe it was too soon. Too much, too soon. Damn it, Ziva. _

She saw the bookcase as she turned towards the workbench. It was stunning. He had kept it simple, with plain sides and shelves and a scalloped edge on top, but the wood was beautiful, shiny and smooth. He had placed the dictionary on the middle shelf, and it fitted perfectly. Her heart raced as she picked up the note he had left beside it.

_**Reciprocate**_vb_. – to give or feel in return. _

_Looks like you're right about the dictionary._


	3. Kitchen Diaries

_And so we move to one of my favourite subjects - in literature and otherwise - food! The recipe in here is real. I originally learnt it from my aunt, although the version I make now is from Yotam Ottolenghi's book 'Jerusalem'. And yes, it really does use obscene amounts of garlic..._

_Next update will most likely be after New Year - so Happy New Year! Thank you so much for continuing to read. _

"Food (literature tells us) is in essence proof of our common humanity: bread to remind us of the earth from which we've all come and salt to remind us of the earth to which we must all return".

-Alberto Manguel

'What's this?'

He wrapped his arms around her waist, breathing in the scent of her hair. He still hadn't quite got used to her being here, in his house. It felt very right, somehow, but that didn't stop him giving himself a mental pinch whenever he came home and she was in his kitchen, like now. Or whenever she came down to join him in the basement. _Or whenever I wake up next to her in bed.…._

Ziva did not turn around, but carried on chopping onions. He could sense rather than see her smile.

'Cooking, Jethro'. She threw the vegetables into a large saucepan, where they sizzled in hot olive oil, before reaching for some garlic and starting to peel the cloves.

'Umm-hmm. I can see that'. He nuzzled her neck, waiting for more of an explanation. Although he had tasted Ziva's cooking before. He wouldn't complain, whatever she made.

'Bean and lamb soup'. A handful of garlic went in the pan. 'My mother's recipe'. She turned around in his arms, knife still in hand, and smiled at him. 'She always used to make it when one of us was feeling…..how do you say? Under the clouds?'

'Under the weather', corrected Gibbs. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then her nose. 'You feeling down?'

She laughed, and pressed her head against his lips for another kiss before turning back to her chopping.

'Not really'.

He brought his hands up to her shoulders and gently began to massage her neck and shoulder blades, his strong fingers kneading the small tense knots under her skin. He rested his chin on top of her head.

'You have a lot of recipes from your mom?'

She nodded. 'She taught me to cook when I was small. I enjoyed it – although I was never any good at baking. Tali was the baker in our family'. She poked the contents of the pan with a wooden spoon. 'My mother had a notebook where she kept all her recipes. When she died, it was one of the only things I took'.

Gibbs stopped massaging, and slid his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back to his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

'Like to see it sometime.' She smiled and nodded.

'It's here. I put it on the bookcase'. She turned around again, and he could see the twinkle in her eyes. 'Next to the dictionary. You could fetch it if you like. I cannot remember exactly how much water to put in'.

He left her in the kitchen, and wandered upstairs. She had decided that she wanted the bookcase – _her bookcase – _in the bedroom. _Our bedroom. _Another mental pinch. Gradually more and more books had appeared on the shelves, but he did not remember seeing a notebook. He paused by the open bathroom door, and smiled as he took in the rose-scented shampoo and woman's razor on the side of the shower, the extra toothbrush by the sink. _Haven't seen that for a while. _It was a strangely satisfying feeling.

He could hear Ziva in the kitchen downstairs, humming to herself and moving pots and pans about the stove as he pulled the worn notebook from the shelf and opened it. Neat writing covered the pages, mostly in Hebrew but some in English, with clippings from magazines and newspapers tucked in between the leaves and taped to the inside of the covers. The paper was slightly yellow with age and with frequent use, and the faint aroma of spices still clung to the creases. Notes in the margins told of recipes that had not worked or that were particularly good, adjustments that needed to be made to the quantities, or timings, or seasonings. Some had been crossed through completely, while others were starred or underlined. _Shakshuka. Burekas. Beef goulash. Spice cookies. _He smiled as he came across one written in a childish hand, the letters larger, more irregular. _Ziva? Or Tali?_ He started to head downstairs, still turning the pages. _Wonder if this one's in Hebrew?_ His answer came at entrance to the kitchen, when he turned the next page and found the recipe written out in English. _Cannellini Bean and Lamb Soup. _

He looked at Ziva in disbelief.

'_Twenty _cloves of garlic?'

Even though her back was turned, he could tell she was smirking.

'Not going anywhere, are you?'

He handed her the book. 'Just as well'.

She took it from him, and handed over a bottle of beer. 'The cloves are not chopped. You put them in whole, therefore, they are not as strong'. He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing and accepted the beer, watching her as she carried on preparing the soup. _Cooking's never looked so good. _

Finally she stepped back from the counter with a satisfied sigh. 'About an hour', she announced, and reached for the bottle of red wine on the kitchen table.

'So', she said, pouring herself a glass.

'So', he echoed, taking a mouthful of beer.

'I was thinking….'

'Umm-hmm?'

She took a deep breath. 'Tony keeps asking questions. As does Abby. McGee would but he is too polite'.

'Yeah, questions about what?'

She looked over at him, and saw the corners of his mouth twitching. _You know what._

'They know I am seeing someone, Jethro, they just do not know who. All the questions…they are driving me crazy'.

She took another mouthful of wine and walked back to give the soup a stir, more for something to do with her hands than because it needed it.

'So maybe we should tell them'.

Ziva turned and looked at Gibbs, calmly drinking his beer. He saw the question in her eyes, and was glad that his own nervousness didn't show. _Worried about telling the others? Or worried in case she doesn't want to?_

'You mean that?' Her voice was quiet.

He looked at her for a moment, and nodded. 'Yeah'. He took another swallow. 'I mean that'.

She smiled, and moved back to perch on the end of the table. Relief flooded through her. She had not wanted to start lying to her colleagues – and friends. _I want them to know. About us. _

She only realized she had spoken aloud when he nodded slowly, and gave that half-smile that she loved. 'Me too'.

Gibbs had reached over to stir the soup, inhaling the warm, spicy steam that rose from the pan. She had to make a conscious effort not to think about how sexy he looked, in his jeans and hoodie. _The kitchen table is really not the place, Ziva. _She smiled to herself. _Or maybe it is….._She drew in her breath as he moved back closer to her, his leg brushing her knee.

'Something funny, Ziva?' He smiled again as she shook her head. _Blushing. Gorgeous. _He moved closer, his legs now either side of her knee, and removed her glass from her hand. Leaning forward, he let his lips gently brush her ear as he whispered, 'Sit like that much longer and I might not make it upstairs'.


	4. The Book of Wisdom

_Happy New Year, everyone! _

_I'll be honest - I struggled a bit with this one. Gibbs and Ziva didn't find it easy telling the team and neither did I! Let me know how I did..._

'Honesty is the first chapter of the book wisdom'.

- Thomas Jefferson

'Are you kidding me?' Abby glared at him, Caf-Pow held aloft in one hand. 'Are you out of your mind?'

Gibbs sighed. He hadn't expected this to go well.

'Maybe, Abs'.

Abby didn't speak, but carried on glaring at him. He thought he detected a trace of hurt in her eyes, behind the anger that he suspected was there just for show. Before he could speak again, she started pacing up and down in front of her lab table, gesturing with both hands.

'The rules, Gibbs! What about Rule 12? It's, like, the most basic rule. The one nobody breaks. I mean, not that we ever break the rules anyway. Not deliberately. But Rule 12? It's set in stone, Gibbs. It came down from a mountain top on a tablet. And now you're…'. She stopped, searching frantically for the right word.

'Things change'.

She looked at him, and now he could see the pain in her eyes. The plea for him to understand, like he always did. She seemed to deflate a little, and he thought he saw a tear begin to form.

'You're Gibbs, Gibbs. Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You don't change. Other people change. You're like….a rock, or something'. She sniffed. 'That's a really bad cliché'. Another sniff. 'Change isn't always good, Gibbs. I don't like change'.

'Not always bad either, Abby'. Gibbs's voice was quiet.

She seemed to recover her composure somewhat, and glared at him again before snatching up her Caf-Pow and stalking off to her desk, closing the sliding doors behind her. He heard the music volume go up as she concentrated fiercely on her computer screen. Conversation over.

He sighed, and leaned against the table. He had no intention of leaving, and he knew that she was not really expecting him to. He loved Abby like a daughter, and knew her almost as well. When he had told her about his relationship with Ziva – and_ yes, _he admitted to himself_, it is a relationship – _he thought he had seen a brief flicker of relief in her eyes before her tirade started_. She's relieved it's Ziva and no-one else. _

He waited for over an hour before the sliding doors opened again and Abby emerged. He raised his eyebrows, and she responded by throwing her arms around his neck. He returned her hug, smiling to himself.

'Still love ya, Abs'.

She pulled away from him, and smiled, looking a little embarrassed. 'I know. It's good, Gibbs. It's good that you're happy. It might just take me a little while. You know, to get used to things'.

He gave her a squeeze. _Me too. _

'Of course, I kind of knew anyway'. He raised his eyebrows and her smile became triumphant. 'Ziva's a terrible liar really, Gibbs. And the other night when she came out? She smelt like you'. Abby leaned across and sniffed, as if to demonstrate her point. 'Wood. And bourbon'.

'I do not….'

Her expression became fierce, and she cut him off mid-sentence. 'I love you, Gibbs, but I also love Ziva. She's like a sister to me. And if you ever hurt her…..'

He laughed and turned to leave. 'I know, Abby. You'll kill me and leave no trace'.

Abby smirked.

'Oh, and Gibbs?' He turned back. 'How about breaking another rule?'

'Depends on which one'.

She held up her now-finished Caf-Pow. 'Rule 6. You made me go through all that on a decaf Caf-Pow, Gibbs. Decaf! It shouldn't be allowed!'

She looked so indignant that he had to laugh. He stepped towards her and planted a kiss on her forehead.

'Machine was out of regular. Sorry, Abs'.

* * *

Gibbs pressed the button for the third floor, and leaned back against the cool steel of the elevator as the doors closed behind him. _Thank God. _The relief was almost overwhelming. He hadn't realized how worried he had been about telling his team, and especially telling Abby. And he had wanted to be the one to tell them. They were his team, and he felt responsible for them. Whether he liked it or not, this affected them. Ziva had eventually agreed, reluctantly, to let him handle it with Abby. He smiled as he thought of her sitting – _probably stewing by now – _at her desk upstairs, and suddenly wished she was there with him. They didn't have to be apart for very long now before he started missing her. _How did that happen?_

The sharp ping of the elevator doors startled Gibbs out of his daydream. As he turned to head towards his desk, he stopped. _Looks like I don't have to tell them anything. _

Tony and McGee were sitting at their desks, McGee looking at Tony, Tony looking at Ziva. His expression was incredulous. Gibbs had left the elevator just in time to hear him.

'You're sleeping with the _boss_?'

McGee caught sight of Gibbs, and coughed. 'Er, Tony….'

'What about Rule 12? Are you out of your mind? Is he out of his?'

'Tony!' McGee's voice was louder now, warning.

Gibbs smiled, and moved to sit on Ziva's desk. It was tempting to give Tony a headslap, but he decided to save it for later. He looked shocked enough as it was. Ziva looked over at him, a plea for help. _I snapped. One question too many. What do I say?_ He shot her a reassuring look before turning back to his senior field agent.

'More than sleeping, DiNozzo'. He was aware of McGee's eyes on him and Ziva looking from one to the other, wanting to speak but not sure what to say.

Tony opened his mouth and then closed it again. He turned to Ziva, who quietly answered his unspoken question.

'Since Israel'.

'Wow'. Tony managed a shake of the head. 'You two must have been pretty damn sneaky, I never saw this coming'. He took a deep breath. 'So Abby knows?'

Gibbs nodded. 'She does now'.

'Ducky? Him upstairs?'

'Abby was on the phone to autopsy as I left. So safe to say….Ducky knows'.

Ziva put her head in her hands.

'And Vance?' Gibbs looked up towards MTAC where Vance stood, leaning against the door, watching them, chewing on a toothpick. He waved a hand at Gibbs. _Don't mind me. _

Tony nodded. There was no trace of his usual swagger. No bad jokes, no movie references. Gibbs wondered what was going through his mind. Ziva was his partner, after all. Office gossip had always put them together. _Wonder if it was more than gossip for him?_

McGee stood up. 'I'll, er….head down to see Abby'. Ziva looked up and gave him a small smile. On impulse, he crossed the space between their desks, reached down and gave her a hug.

'I'm happy for you, Ziva'. He released her and looked across at Gibbs. 'You too, Boss. It's just a bit strange. But if you can make it work, and you're happy, then…..' He shrugged, smiled, and made for the stairs.

Gibbs called after him. 'McGee?'

He turned. _Thank you. _

'Think Abby'll still be in autopsy.'

McGee smiled and nodded before disappearing. Gibbs gave Ziva another smile before turning back to Tony.

'You wanna say something, DiNozzo?'

They looked at each other for a moment before he replied.

'How is this going to work? On the job, I mean?' He took a deep breath. 'Rule 12 was there for a reason, Boss. Well, you know that anyway. It was your rule'. He leaned forward in his chair, and nodded towards Ziva. 'What if Ziva gets hurt? What happens if you fight?'

Gibbs sighed and shook his head. 'I don't know, DiNozzo. Guess you never think things through til it's too late'. He studied his senior agent. 'She's still your partner'.

Tony nodded slowly. 'You love her?'

'Hey! I am here, you know'. Ziva's quiet protest went unheeded, and Gibbs answered without hesitation.

'Yeah. I do'.

Tony nodded again, this time looking at Ziva. It was a while before he spoke. 'Well, I guess Elflord down there's right. If you can make it work, then good for you'.

'Thank you, Tony.' Ziva's voice was little more than a whisper.

'DiNozzo?' Gibbs' voice, too, was quiet.

'Boss?'

'Think I owe you an apology'.

'A what?' Tony looked confused.

'I've given you a hard time over Rule 12. Wasn't so long ago I told you to choose. And now….' He gestured.

For the second time that day, Tony struggled for words. _Gibbs – with Ziva. Gibbs – apologising? _He shook his head, but he knew what Gibbs was trying to say.

'That was EJ. It would never have worked anyway'. He paused. 'She thought _What Women Want_ was a great movie. I mean. Come on'.

Gibbs half-smiled. _That's better. _

'Seriously, Boss. Ziva. It's ok. Things change'. He stood up and stretched, and moved around to the front of his desk. 'Anyway, no more Rule 12…this means I can ask the cute girl on the Far East desk out, right?...Ooof'. He blinked as Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head. 'Guess not, Boss. Sorry, Boss'.

Gibbs shook his head. 'Nah, that was for earlier'.

'Earlier?'

Ziva stood up and moved to join them. 'The sleeping with the boss comment. And this one…' Her own hand connected lightly with the back of his head. 'For implying that Gibbs was crazy for sleeping with me'.

Tony rubbed the back of his head. 'How about if I said he'd be crazy not to….?'

Both Gibbs and Ziva reached up at the same time.

'Ow!'

* * *

Gibbs lay quietly, listening to her breathing. His arm was around her, his fingers playing with her hair while her head rested on his chest. It was a warm night, and a slight breeze through the open window played with the curtains and carried the faint sound of music from across the street. They were both tired. Exhausted, in fact. _But it felt right. The right thing to do. _He smiled to himself as he thought back to those first evenings in the basement. _Guess we're making our own fairy tale now. _

Ziva groaned sleepily as her phone beeped on the table beside the bed. As she sat up to get it, Gibbs slid his arm around her stomach, pulling her back down onto the bed.

'Not so fast'.

'Jethro!' She protested, laughing, as he began to nibble her ear and move his hands downwards. He relented enough to let her grab the phone, before moving his lips down her neck.

'Who is it?'

She gave a little moan of pleasure before replying. 'Abby'.

'Umm-hmmm? What does she want?' He moved further down, making her breath catch in her throat before she replied.

'To tell me that she loves me, but if I hurt you she will kill me and leave no trace'.

She felt him smile as his hands began to follow his lips.

'Don't think you need to worry just yet'.


	5. A Fine Balance

_The title for this chapter comes from a book of the same name by Rohinton Mistry. And the quote - what can I say. I love kids' books. _

_Thank you for reading!  
_

"Generally speaking, books don't cause much harm. Except when you read them, that is. Then they cause all kinds of problems."

― Pseudonymous Bosch, _The Name of This Book Is Secret_

'Damn!'

Gibbs swore under his breath. McGee looked over at him, concerned.

'You ok, boss?'

Gibbs tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. 'What's taking so long?' he muttered. He took another gulp of coffee and pulled a face. 'And that is not coffee'.

McGee looked over at him, half amused, half exasperated. Ziva and Tony had barely been an hour inside the bar. After five minutes, Gibbs had started looking at his watch. After twenty, he had started tapping.

'Could be a while yet', observed McGee. 'You, uh, want me to get you some more coffee?' He wasn't entirely sure that more caffeine was a good idea, but if it stopped Gibbs tapping, he would suffer the consequences.

Gibbs took another mouthful and shook his head. He turned to look out of the window at the bar across the street. It was not particularly busy, but he still couldn't see either Tony or Ziva through the open door. _This was a bad idea. Sending Ziva undercover in the bar where those two women were last seen. He could be there now. He could be talking to her. He could be….._

'She's with Tony, Boss'. McGee's voice snapped Gibbs away from his thoughts. 'All they're doing is talking to the regulars. She'll be fine'.

Gibbs turned to him, ready to deny that he had been worried, to say that he knew Ziva could take care of herself. That it really didn't bother him that she was sitting in the bar now, in figure-hugging jeans and a skimpy top, flirting with other customers to try and get information on their suspect. But when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out.

'Damn', he muttered again.

It had been Ziva's idea. They had been working the case for almost a week with no break. Two women had vanished, last seen at the bar with a marine they had managed to identify as one Carl Andrews. Unfortunately, that was as far as they had got. There were no bodies. No actual evidence of a crime. And Andrews, like the women, had vanished. Gibbs and McGee had tried questioning the bar staff and regulars without much success – it wasn't the kind of place where federal agents were welcomed with open arms. So Ziva had finally suggested she spend an evening there undercover. A woman out for an evening of fun with her latest boyfriend might pick something up that an agent on an official visit wouldn't. And since Tony was the only other agent who hadn't already been to the bar, the role of 'latest boyfriend' fell to him. Vance had given the go-ahead before Gibbs could think up a valid objection. So here he was. Sat in a car, outside the bar, while she sat inside. With Tony. He scowled. It didn't help that he could hear every word.

'You want ice with that?' _The barman. _

'You sure that's all you want, sweetcheeks?' _Tony. _

'Sure. We've got a long night ahead…' _Ziva. Is she flirting with him?_

'Like the top, sweetcheeks'.

'Eyes off her top, hands off her ass, and do some work, DiNozzo!' Gibbs hissed.

'Just going to make a quick phone call, honey'.

Tony appeared at the bar door, taking out his phone and pretending to dial. Looking straight at their car, he spoke into the mouthpiece. His voice was tense.

'She's supposed to be my girlfriend, boss'. What he left unspoken seemed to hang in the air. _Let me do my job. And let Ziva do hers. _

'Anything yet, Tony?' McGee shot a quick look at Gibbs, taking in his furious, strained expression.

'That's a negative, McGoo'. He looked back inside, and then back to the car. 'Heading back in. Boss – she's fine'.

Gibbs did not reply, but began to tap again. He drained his coffee and put the paper cup on to the floor, never taking his eyes from the bar entrance. From what they could hear above the music, Ziva had struck up a flirty conversation with the barman, and Tony seemed happy to let it run as she steered the topic around to the missing women. McGee watched as Gibbs's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter.

'She's not in any danger', he said quietly.

'Yeah, I know that, McGee'. _Do I? What if Andrews is watching? What if we've got it wrong and it isn't Andrews at all? What if it's someone else in the bar? Someone there now? _His jaw clenched. _Yeah, right. _If he was honest, he knew there was no real danger. _Or there wouldn't be if she hadn't worn those damn jeans. _

'You're asking a lot of questions, lady'. _The barman. _Both Gibbs and McGee stiffened.

'Just making conversation'. _Ziva. Ice rattling. _

'Nothing to make conversation about. Be careful what you insinuate round here'.

'Damn it, DiNozzo, what the hell are you doing?' Gibbs muttered, his hand on the car door. Tony's voice came back, floating into the car.

'Taking a break in the little boy's room, boss. Apple juice goes straight through me'.

'No threat, lady'. _The barman again. _'Just a friendly warning. People in here don't take too kindly to strangers asking questions'.

'Quit pissing and get her out of there, DiNozzo. Before I come in and get her'.

'Loud and clear, boss'.

Five minutes later, Tony and Ziva emerged on to the street, arms around each other like any other couple out that evening. Gibbs scowled again as they turned left out of the bar, as arranged, heading towards the parking lot further down. As he pulled in to pick them up, he saw the furious expression on Ziva's face. She slammed the door behind her as she climbed into the backseat.

'What did you pull us out for?'

Gibbs concentrated on the road, not trusting himself to look round at her. 'You were going too far. He was getting suspicious'.

'I was just getting somewhere! He knew something, Gibbs'.

'He threatened you. I don't want my agents in danger, David'. Gibbs hadn't meant to raise his voice, but the look on Ziva's face in the mirror told him he had. She looked at Tony, anger and frustration on her face. _Help me out here. _But Tony, almost imperceptibly, shook his head. _Leave it. For now._

* * *

'So we have nothing'. Gibbs threw his mobile phone down on his desk.

'We have nothing'. Tony sat down.

Ziva perched on the edge of her desk, still wearing her jeans and top. Gibbs looked over at her, and took a deep breath.

'You want to go change, David?'

She raised her eyebrows. 'I have nothing with me to change into. Gibbs'. He scowled again, and looked up to see Vance coming out of his office.

'Agent Gibbs. A debrief. My office'.

Gibbs started to head upstairs. He turned back to his team. 'You waiting for something? Start following up!' He followed Vance into his office and slammed the door behind him.

'So, Gibbs'. Vance sat down behind his desk. 'I hear you say you have nothing?'

'People didn't talk. Barman knew something, but he wasn't saying'.

'Umm-hmm, and you pulled Agents David and DiNozzo out prematurely. Why was that?'

'You listening in, Leon?'

'I always listen in, Gibbs'.

'Threats were made. I don't want my agents in danger for a case that might not even be a case'.

Vance nodded. He studied Gibbs for a moment, his face inscrutable. 'This is the first real case since you and Agent David became a couple, is that right?'

Gibbs looked irritated. 'What does that have to do with it?'

'Books aren't a problem until they're read, Gibbs. Or so my son's book says'. He paused. 'Emotions are the same. Not a problem. 'Til you act on them'.

'The point, Leon?'.

Vance leaned forward in his chair. His gaze never left Gibbs's face. 'You have never had a problem with agents potentially putting themselves in harm's way before. It's what they do. Is it going to be a problem now?'

Gibbs took a deep breath. 'No', he replied firmly.

Vance nodded slowly. 'I do not want to split up your team, Gibbs. But if you can no longer trust David and DiNozzo to do their jobs – together – then I have no choice'.

Gibbs's face was like stone. He spoke quietly. 'Not about trust, Leon'.

Vance leaned back in his chair, and reached into his desk drawer for a toothpick. He chewed slowly. 'It is about trust, Gibbs. It's about your feelings for Agent David. You don't want to see her hurt, and you don't trust anyone else to protect her'. He paused. 'Not even DiNozzo'.

There was silence for a good minute before Gibbs spoke. 'We done, Leon?'

'I guess we'll have to be. Tell your team to go home. Paperwork can wait til morning'.

Gibbs nodded, and moved towards the door. 'Won't happen again, Leon'.

Vance gave a cynical smile.' Don't make promises you can't keep, Gibbs. Just don't make it so obvious next time'.

* * *

'Go home. Get some rest. We'll finish up in the morning'.

'You sure, boss?' Despite his question, McGee was already shutting down his computer. Gibbs nodded, and looked over at Tony, who was busy gathering his things. _Would another apology be too much? Probably. _

'Tough break tonight. But good job, DiNozzo'.

Tony looked up and nodded. He looked tired. 'Ziva's gone to the restroom. She, uh, still seemed a bit pissed'. He picked up his gear bag. 'I'd maybe hide the chisel tonight, if I were you'.

Gibbs snorted. 'Won't do me much good. There's pencils next to the chisel'. Tony grimaced, and paused before following McGee to the elevator.

'I care about her too, boss'. His voice was quiet. 'I've risked my life before. I would again'.

Gibbs nodded. 'I know'. He sighed. 'Go home, DiNozzo'.

Tony headed for the elevator as Ziva walked back into the bullpen, ignoring Gibbs and heading to her desk to collect her own gear bag. Gibbs watched her reach over to switch off her computer, her top slipping slightly. He felt a tingle run down his spine. _How does she do that?_

'You coming home tonight?'

She turned to face him. 'That depends'.

'On what?'

'On whether you apologise for being a donkey'.

'Ass, Ziva'.

'Yes. That too'. She stood there, arms folded, watching him for a moment before turning on her heel and stalking off towards the elevator. He thought he caught something muttered under her breath in Hebrew. _She must be pissed off. _

He grabbed his car keys and ran after her, squeezing in the elevator just as the doors slid shut. It had barely begun to move before he reached over and hit the emergency stop button, bringing them to a grinding halt and plunging them into darkness.

'I'm sorry, Ziva'.

She turned to face him, suddenly animated. 'You have to let me do my job, Jethro! You cannot protect me all the time'.

He nodded, reaching out and taking hold of her shoulders. 'I know'.

'And you cannot act like a jealous husband every time Tony and I are working together'.

He smiled. _Jealous husband? Quite like the sound of that. _

'Know that, too'.

She nodded.

'Or every time I wear tight jeans'. Her voice had dropped, and her eyes became flirtatious. He looked down at her.

'The jeans were unfair'. He pulled her a little bit closer. 'So am I forgiven?'

She pretended to consider for a moment. 'Are you asking on a personal or professional basis?' She moved even closer, her breasts brushing against his chest. His voice came out husky.

'Having a little trouble separating the two'.

Ziva stepped away and flicked the switch. The elevator jolted to life as the light flickered, illuminating her mischievous smile.

'Guess I had better come home with you then. So you can work on untangling them'.


	6. Body Art

"Where should I go?" - Alice. "That depends on where you want to end up." - The Cheshire Cat

- _Alice In Wonderland, _Lewis Carroll

Gibbs walked back into the bullpen, balancing coffee in one hand and a pile of files in the other. It had been a slow week. So slow that Director Vance had given his team cold cases to go over and input into the system. The pile he was carrying was destined for Tony's desk, and he smiled to himself. _DiNozzo's face? Priceless._

After dropping the files, he set the coffee down and turned to the two women sat at Ziva's desk.

'My chair, Abs?'

Abby turned to him with a cheeky grin, while Ziva smiled and took another bite of her sandwich.

'Not until we're done, Gibbs'.

'Done with what?'

'Choosing Ziva's tattoo'. Abby said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'We're going tonight after work. Then she's staying at mine. And you can't choose a tattoo unless you're comfortable'.

'Ziva looks comfy enough', Gibbs pointed out. 'And I'm hoping she's the one choosing…?"

Abby looked indignant. 'Gibbs! I'm hurt. I am, after all, the expert'.

'Umm-hmm'. Gibbs smiled. 'Don't you have work to do, Abs?'

She stood up and pushed his chair back over towards him. 'Nope. Slow week for you, slow week for me. But I think we're just about done'. She nudged Ziva with her elbow, almost making her spill her mug of tea. 'Laters?'

Ziva nodded, unable to speak through her sandwich. She held up a hand. 'Later', she mumbled, as Abby sauntered off towards the stairs.

'Hey, Abs!' Gibbs called after her. 'What you decided on?'

Ziva coughed as she swallowed. 'You could ask me….'

Abby laughed as she turned around. 'Your initials on Ziva's…..well, I'll leave you to figure out where'. With a final wave she was gone.

Gibbs moved to stand behind Ziva, but all he could see on her screen was her email. He moved closer and leaned down, his mouth by her ear, his voice quiet and his tone flirtatious.

'A tattoo, huh?'

'Yes, Gibbs. A tattoo.' She smiled as she began typing.

'Hmmm'. He watched her fingers moving over the keyboard, his breath warm on her cheek. 'Think I maybe prefer you calling me Gibbs. Sexier'. He caught her hand as she reached up behind her to give him a head slap, and placed it gently back down on the keyboard. 'Did Abby say my initials on your ass?'

Ziva snorted with laughter. 'She did, but that is not what I am getting'.

'No?'

'No'. She paused to send an email before continuing. 'I thought that with your track record – and mine – initials were not a good idea just yet'. She turned to smile at him, and despite returning her smile, he felt slightly stung. And worried. He didn't care about the tattoo. But he did care that his…._track record_…seemed to be nagging at Ziva.

Ziva had turned back to the screen and resumed her typing. 'And I would not get a tattoo there. It is always the first place to go fat and wrinkly. I have not really decided yet. I will…..see what I feel like. Later'.

Gibbs straightened up. 'Sure that's a good idea?'

She smiled up at him again. 'I will not get anything outrageous. I promise'.

He sat down at his desk and took a mouthful of coffee. 'You told Abby that?' He watched her over the rim of his cup as he thought how much he loved to see her laugh.

'Abby knows the kind of thing I like. She will behave herself'.

Their conversation was interrupted as Tony and McGee emerged from the elevator, arguing loudly about whose turn it was to buy lunch. Tony stopped short as he saw the pile of files on his desk.

'You're joking'. McGee laughed as he headed towards his own desk, patting Tony on the shoulder as he passed.

'Enjoy, Tony'.

Tony scowled as he dumped his bag. 'Hey, if I give you the money for the burgers, will you do this lot?'

'Not a chance'.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows and stood up. 'Plenty to go round. Next lot's yours, McGee'. He walked towards the elevator, pausing by Ziva's desk long enough to speak quietly so that the others could not hear.

'Hey, Ziva.' She looked up at him. 'Take care of yourself?'

She nodded. 'I always do'. A slow smile spread across her face. 'Gibbs'.

* * *

Gibbs sat at his kitchen table the following evening, waiting for the saucepan of water to boil. He took a swallow of the open bottle of beer as he heard Ziva climb into the shower. He had not managed to speak to her alone at work, but at least she had turned up in one piece. A smile crossed his face. He still had no idea what design she had chosen, if any – he was still surprised she had wanted to get one at all. As he stood up to start the dinner, he thought back to her words the previous day and the smile faded from his face. _With your track record….not a good idea…_She was right, of course. He ripped open a packet of pasta, tipping more than he intended into the pan. He was suddenly furious with himself, not just because of his past failed relationships that he now thought must be worrying Ziva but because he realized he had no idea how to reassure her. He wasn't sure whether he could. He knew how he felt. So did she. But neither of them really knew what would happen in one, five, ten, twenty years time. _Hell, you're almost twice her age. In twenty years' time you might not be here. _His anger mixed with a creeping feeling of guilt. He couldn't help thinking that she deserved more than he could offer her. That guilt was starting to become familiar and, not for the first time, he considered whether he should end it. For Ziva's sake. The thought made him feel slightly sick.

His thoughts were interrupted when Ziva entered the kitchen and opened the fridge door to get a drink. She was wearing loose black sweatpants and a sleeveless top, her hair damp and curly from her shower, and he thought how amazingly sexy she looked in something so simple. She turned to him with a smile, and something inside him did a back flip as his heart beat a little faster. _You really want to end this? Get a grip. _He slipped his hands along her hips and round her waist, and grinned when she winced.

'No sympathy when it's self inflicted, Ziva'. She pulled a face, but allowed him to gently pull her top up to reveal a bandage just above her hip.

'I had to cover it in the shower. It can come off now. If you want to see it'. She smiled, enjoying teasing him.

He concentrated as he moved the waistband of her sweatpants down and slowly pulled off the bandage. Her skin was still a little red and sore, but the tattoo itself was…..beautiful. He couldn't think of another word to describe it. She had chosen a compass in a deep red, small but ornate. Sixteen points were set over three circles, the pattern so delicate it looked as if it had been embroidered. Tiny scripted letters marked north, south, east and west, with the 'N' slightly larger than the others. He looked up at her, and she raised her eyebrows.

'Well?'

He didn't answer, but ran his hand gently over the circle, tracing the ink on her skin. She reached out to touch his cheek, her gaze meeting his.

'Are you disappointed?'

He shook his head, smiling. 'It's beautiful, Ziva.' His fingers traced the points from north to south. 'Surprised, that's all'.

'Surprised I would get a tattoo in the first place, or at the design?'

He shrugged. 'Both'.

She smiled, and reached over to turn off the pasta. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and her words slow.

'My scars are scars. I had no choice. This is art. And I chose it. That makes a difference.' She paused. 'The compass is to remind me that I can go wherever I want to. End up wherever I want to end up. And to remind me of the way home. If I ever get lost again'.

'Where'd you want to end up?' Gibbs hadn't meant to ask the question, and it was a moment before she replied.

'Here'.

Gibbs met her gaze. Her brown eyes were burning into his blue ones. There was so much they could say that neither of them had the words for. In the end, all he could do was shake his head. His voice came out as a whisper.

'You won't get lost, Ziva'. He reached out and stroked her hair. 'Won't let you'.

She smiled, and leaned into his touch. 'I know'.

They stood for several minutes, both lost in thoughts that they would never express out loud. It was Gibbs who finally broke the silence.

'You'll never go fat and wrinkly though. Think you should get the next one on your ass'.


	7. Why Be Normal When You Could Be Happy?

_The final chapter. I feel quite emotional! This last one is pure, unadulterated fluff for which I make no apologies - you have been warned! Thank you so much for reading. _

_The chapter title and quote are taken from Jeanette Winterson's 'Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?'. _

"I have noticed that doing the sensible thing is only a good idea when the decision is quite small. For the life-changing things, you must risk it."

― Jeanette Winterson, _Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?_

Ziva sat in the passenger seat, looking out of the window as the unfamiliar scenery rolled by. The sun was peeking through the clouds, even as the annoyingly cheerful DJ on the radio announced that the terrible downpours would continue for a while yet and to not forget your umbrellas, folks. When Reba McEntire started telling her to turn on the radio, she reached for the volume control and turned it down. Right down. She was nervous. And the nearer they got to their destination, the more nervous she became.

'Relax'. Gibbs looked over at her, smiling, before turning his attention back to the road. 'You've met him before'.

'Yes, as your colleague'. Ziva shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 'This time is different. I am here as your…..' She paused.

'Girlfriend?' Gibbs suggested.

Ziva wrinkled her nose. 'That makes me sound like a teenager'.

'Partner?'

'Too much like work. Tony is my partner'.

'Lover?'

She caught his teasing smile. 'Jethro, I cannot introduce myself to your father as your lover!'

He laughed. 'Well, sure we'll think of something'.

They fell silent again. When Gibbs had told Ziva it was his father's birthday and suggested they spend the weekend with him in Stillwater, she had been surprised, but happy to agree. She knew that their relationship had been strained at best in the past, but that things seemed to be improving. _At least that is the case for one of us_. And she liked Jackson Gibbs_. _She was just not sure whether he would approve of her as Gibbs'…whatever she was.

They pulled up outside the neat house where Jethro had grown up, and she took a deep breath. Gibbs switched off the engine and reached over to give her a quick kiss.

'OK?'

She nodded and smiled. 'OK'.

As they got out of the car and stretched their legs, the door of the house opened and Jackson stepped out, hand raised in greeting. He looked older than Ziva remembered, but his face was creased into the same welcoming smile.

'You made it, then'.

Gibbs walked up to the door, carrying their bags. He stopped and looked at Jackson, and his face broke into a smile.

'Thought you'd still be at the store'.

'Well, it's not every day it's your birthday. And your son comes to visit. I've got a young lad helping me now, since…..well. I figured he could see to the place today'.

Gibbs nodded. He knew that the robbery at the store three years earlier had shaken Jackson more than he would ever admit. It was probably a good thing he had managed to find someone to give him a hand every now and then.

Ziva came up behind Gibbs, and he placed a hand reassuringly on her back. 'You remember Ziva, Dad?'

Jackson beamed. 'Course I do. I might be old, Leroy, but I ain't senile. Not yet, anyway'. He reached out and shook Ziva's proffered hand, then pulled her into a hug and kissed her on the cheek before ushering them into the hallway.

'If I'd known you were coming this early, I'd have got the shopping done yesterday'.

They followed him into the bright kitchen, where he filled the kettle and took some mugs from the cupboard.

'Coffee?' They both nodded. Jackson prepared the pot as the kettle boiled. He looked up at them with a twinkle in his blue eyes as he gestured towards the bags on the floor.

'You can take the bags upstairs, Leroy. I made up the spare room. Thought you probably wouldn't need the fold-out bed as well.'

Ziva laughed, and Gibbs smiled as he picked up the bags. 'Nope'.

'Is it that obvious?' Ziva asked as she accepted a steaming cup of fresh coffee. She was already beginning to relax.

Jackson just raised his eyebrows, and she laughed again. _This might be okay after all._

* * *

Ziva pulled on a sweatshirt over her sleeveless top, and looked at herself in the small mirror on the wall. She could hear Gibbs calling to Jackson to pass him a hammer, and she smiled to herself. He had insisted on fixing the hole in the roof of the verandah at the back of the house, and although Jackson had protested, she could tell he was grateful for the help. Earlier on, when they had been shopping in town for groceries and hardware supplies for the repair job, everyone had greeted her as if she was an old friend. She got the impression the whole town knew she was with Gibbs, and that they would be here this weekend. _Small town life. _It was a strange feeling, knowing that everyone knew who she was before she even met them. She was surprised to find she did not dislike it.

She found Jackson back in the kitchen, putting on yet another pot of coffee. He smiled as she walked in, and gestured to her to sit down.

'Another coffee? Or tea?'

She shook her head, smiling. 'I am fine, thank you. I can take that out to him, if you like. You sit and have yours'.

Jackson handed her the large mug. 'Be careful out there. Nails and hammers all over the place. Anyone would think the verandah had fallen down'. His eyes twinkled again.

Ziva went out of the back door and found Gibbs at the top of a ladder, perched on the verandah roof. She started up the ladder towards him, balancing the mug carefully in one hand.

'Careful'. He put down his hammer and reached down towards her, taking the mug from her and giving her a kiss.

'Taking longer than I thought. Wood's rotten around the hole'.

'You need some help?'

He shook his head. 'No. If you don't mind sitting with Dad for a while'. She shook her head.

'Of course not'. She pulled him down for another kiss. 'Just shout if you need anything'.

She walked back into the kitchen where Jackson was sitting at the table with his own mug and the newspaper crossword puzzle, and helped herself to a glass of water before sitting down to join him. He pushed the paper towards her.

'Fourteen down. Aramaic?'

She looked at the clue. _Ancient Middle East language (7). _She nodded. 'Yes, I think that would fit'.

He nodded and filled in the squares. They sat in comfortable silence for a while over the puzzle, broken only by one of them pointing out the answer to a clue. Finally there was only one left that neither of them could get. Jackson pushed the paper away with a sigh.

'Damn things. Never quite get one finished'. He leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes on Ziva. The sounds of hammering and the occasional swear word came from the verandah roof.

'He on your mind?'

She looked at him in surprise. _Damn. He's even more perceptive than his son. _He smiled at the look on her face.

'You looked….sad, for a moment there. When women look sad and they're involved with Leroy, well….'. He shrugged. 'I don't want to pry'.

She considered for a moment. This was not the turn she had expected the conversation to take, but something about Jackson Gibbs made her feel comfortable. _Something paternal_.

'It is not Jethro, it is me', she admitted. Jackson raised his eyebrows.

'Heard that one before'.

She managed a small smile. 'You have raised a wonderful son, Jackson. But…..I do not know whether I have what it takes to keep him. And I want something permanent'. She paused. 'Something that will not be taken away'. She shook herself mentally, and forced another smile. 'But we are here for your birthday. We should not be talking about that now'.

Jackson frowned, and he leaned forward in his chair. He spoke slowly, as if measuring every word before he uttered it.

'If you're trying to say you're not good enough for him, forget it. You are'. He looked over to the window as a loud bang came from the verandah. 'He knows it'. He looked back at Ziva. 'If it makes you feel any better, I haven't seen him like this since Shannon'.

Ziva's brow wrinkled in confusion, and Jackson smiled.

'In love. Infatuated. Besotted. Do I have to spell it out?' He got up slowly, and took his mug over to the sink. 'And he's brought you here. He and...what was her name, now?...Diane, well, they were married before I even met her. And I only knew he'd been married to Stephanie when he rang to say they were divorced'. He leaned against the counter. 'He'll be worried too, you know'.

'What makes you say that?'

'Parents know their kids, Ziva. We might not always get along, but I know he's a good person. He loves you. He won't want to hurt you'.

He moved back to the table, and took Ziva's hand as he sat down. The twinkle was back. 'But if you want to marry him…' He ignored Ziva's squeak of protest. 'Well, you might have to take the initiative on that one. He'll be too worried you'll say no'.

Ziva swallowed. Hard.

'I, uh…had not thought about it'. She raised her gaze to meet Jackson's and caught the look on his face. _Yeah. Right. _They both burst out laughing just as Gibbs walked in through the back door.

'I miss something funny?' He walked over to the table and dropped a kiss on Ziva's head. Jackson shook his head.

'Just the crossword, son. See if you can finish that one off, I'll make a start on dinner'.

Ziva stood up. 'No, you will not. We will do it – since it is your birthday'. The smile that passed between them did not go unnoticed by Gibbs. His eyes questioned Ziva, but she merely smiled at him too and moved past him towards the stove.

'Want some help?'

She shook her head as she looked him up and down. 'Not until you take a shower. You have half the roof on you'.

Gibbs smiled in acknowledgement and headed out of the kitchen towards the stairs. He just caught Jackson's voice over the sound of the fridge door opening.

'See? Obeying already'.

He heard Ziva laugh. 'I do not think the husband promises to obey, Jackson'.

A snort. 'Don't you believe it. And will you please call me Jack?'

* * *

Ziva breathed in the cool air, enjoying the feeling of the sun and slight breeze on her face. They had spent a lazy Sunday morning at the house with coffee and the newspapers – something she rarely did but actually quite enjoyed. After lunch, Jackson had suggested that she and Gibbs go for a walk before heading back to DC. And – she did not think she was mistaken - she could have sworn she had seen him wink at her.

She had spent most of the morning thinking about what he had said. It amazed her that someone who she had really only just met could be so perceptive. _Maybe that is what it takes. _She stepped over a rock on the path as she followed Gibbs along the narrow trail between the trees. It had been obvious to Jackson, and suddenly it was obvious to her too. She loved Gibbs. She knew he loved her. She was happier than she could ever remember being before. _We only have today. You of all people should know that, Ziva. _

Gibbs suddenly stopped in front of her, and for a moment she was worried he had somehow read her thoughts. He reached out a hand, and drew her to his side. The trail had abruptly ended by a small lake, clear blue in the sunshine, gentle waves lapping against the large rocks at the water's edge.

'It is beautiful'.

On impulse, she climbed over the rocks to one further out, big enough for them both to sit on. As Gibbs clambered over to join her, she pulled off her boots and socks and dangled her feet in the water.

'Cold?'

She nodded, smiling. 'But nice. You should try it'. Gibbs shook his head as he sat down. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the scenery and the stillness.

'Thanks for coming'.

Ziva smiled, thinking back over the previous day. 'I have enjoyed it', she replied honestly. 'I was a little nervous but your father is lovely'.

'He likes you'.

Ziva laughed. 'Then the feeling is mutual'.

'Never did figure out what to introduce you as'.

'Then it was just as well introductions were not necessary'. Ziva looked out over the water. _Take a risk. _

'But for future reference…' She paused. Her voice came out so quiet even she could barely hear it. 'How does 'wife' sound?'

She could not look at Gibbs, but continued to stare at a spot on the far shore of the lake. Suddenly she knew what people meant when they talked about a deafening silence. She only realized her hands were shaking when Gibbs reached over and took them in his own.

'You asking me to marry you, Ziva?'

She shrugged. 'I realize it is not strictly…traditional'. She could not help smiling as an absurd thought occurred to her. 'And I am not getting down on one knee. But yes. That is what I am asking'.

'Look at me, Ziva'.

Ziva actually shook her head.

She heard Gibbs laugh softly. He reached up and placed his fingers under her chin, gently moving her head round to face him. He did not look shocked, as she had feared. Or angry, or worried. He was smiling, and the love and tenderness in his eyes made her breath hitch in her throat.

He looked at her for a good minute before speaking.

'You absolutely sure?'

She nodded. 'I have never felt happier, Jethro'. She paused, thinking of how to try and say everything she was feeling, before giving it up as a lost cause. She shook her head at herself. 'I have had too much taken from me to risk losing this as well. I know that marriage does not necessarily mean forever, but…..'. She shrugged.

Gibbs nodded slowly.

'Good job I brought this along, then'.

He let go of her hand, and reached into the pocket of his jeans. Her heart thudded as he brought out a small black box, and she watched him open it and take out the gold engagement ring inside. As he slid it onto her finger, three tiny diamonds glinted in the light. She looked at him in amazement, shaking all over and unable to speak.

He kept hold of her hand, looking at the ring that fit her slim finger perfectly.

'My mother's', he said softly. He looked up at her shocked face and smiled. 'Dad. Last night. Told me to quit being an idiot and get my act together'.

Ziva laughed, suddenly feeling slightly light-headed and hysterical.

'For once I agreed with him'. Gibbs was smiling still.

'So, uh….'

'Yes, Ziva'. He leaned over and kissed her. 'I will marry you'.

When they finally broke apart, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Her eyes kept returning to the ring on her finger, and she could not keep the smile from her face.

'I think we probably owe Jackson a drink'.

Gibbs slipped an arm around her shoulder and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips and gently kissing her ring finger. Somewhere in the trees behind them, a bird had started singing.

'Later, Ziva'. He kissed the top of her head. 'Later'.


End file.
